


hell for the company

by subsequence



Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Alternate Universe - Hades and Persephone Mythology Fusion, Hades!Jaebum, M/M, Persephone!Jinyoung, what a beautifully specific tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-27 23:38:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17171645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subsequence/pseuds/subsequence
Summary: If he were a human, Jaebum would think it fate. As it is, he thinks he might have to pay Jackson a visit later to ask exactly what kind of arrow he shot Jaebum with, because surely there must be foul play involved for him to lay eyes on someone for the first time and feel —this.In a single look, Jaebum is ensnared.





	hell for the company

**Author's Note:**

> i've been working on this on and off for what feels like a million years...and then finally, i picked up some steam with it again lately ^^ part of it was due to the kick in the ass provided by miki's beautiful art of both [jinyoung](https://twitter.com/monikirogers/status/1040050051777740800) and [jaebum](https://twitter.com/monikirogers/status/1075188361961373702), which are absolutely gorgeous and helped motivate me to return to the au ♡ thank you so much, miki!!!
> 
> thank you to [cherry](http://archiveofourown.org/users/oathskeeper) and [mara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bias_wrecked) for looking this over for me!! and of course thank you to [cel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryliner) for being the best cheerleading dorter in the world, as always ♡

Jaebum is aboveground strictly on business when he sees him.

“Just send Jaebum to check whenever things go wrong,” he grumbles, his chariot sweeping across the earth, wheels not touching the ground as they spin so fast they spit shadows in their wake like smoke. “We’ll use the Underworld as our own personal holding cell, but Zeus forbid we take care of it ourselves when they riot — ” Lightning cracks across the sky and thunder rolls so violently that Jaebum’s chariot is nearly thrown off its course, careening wildly. Jaebum sneers upward. “If you didn’t want me to say it, then maybe you shouldn't treat me like your guard dog! Just because I'm always in the Underworld doesn't mean I'm under your control — ”

The next bolt of lightning strikes directly in the path of Jaebum's chariot, sending it flying and him along with it. True, he’s immortal, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt when he hits the ground. He swears he can feel his skeleton rattling inside him with the impact. Of course, the bastard had to swipe him directly into a timber, branches clawing at Jaebum’s clothing before his trajectory is stopped unceremoniously by a tree trunk.

He picks himself up and bites back several curses that rise to the tip of his tongue. It wouldn’t do any good to further anger the one who just blasted him right off his chariot, and he doesn’t want to deal with accidentally breaking an unsuspecting mortal today. He lets the frustration roll off of him in icy waves instead, the grass beneath his feet yellowing and withering.

Thankfully, his ride doesn’t seem to be damaged, and he’s about to mount it again when he hears something — he thinks at first that it’s music before he realizes it’s a giggle.

He whips around, glowering at whoever may be laughing at him, but he doesn’t see anyone. Cautiously, he steps forward; the land of the living is unfamiliar to him after all this time, and it seems like his Olympian counterparts have a habit of making a new monster every day through their own stupidity.

To his left, he hears another giggle, and he turns to see light peeking through the trees. He moves toward the source of the noise, melting into the shadows as he goes. It’s better to find out what he’s facing before he reveals himself.

He reaches the edge of what turns out to be more than a clearing. A pool gleams under the sun, eerily still enough to remind him of the dead waters of the Underworld if it weren’t for the flora spilling over its banks and winding up the trees around the edges of the clearing. It’s so bright, so vivid that it almost hurts his eyes to look, and he winces, about to turn back to the shadows, when his eyes fall on something — no, someone — more beautiful than all the blossoms and sunlight and endless clear sky.

If he were a mortal, Jaebum would think it fate. As it is, he thinks he might have to pay Jackson a visit later to ask exactly what kind of arrow he shot Jaebum with, because surely there must be foul play involved for him to lay eyes on someone for the first time and feel — _this._

The boy — man — _being_ before him seems simultaneously untouchable and like every inch of him deserves to be paid the utmost attention. His skin is flawless and golden, as if he were made to be bathed in sunlight, and it looks like it would feel like velvet beneath Jaebum's fingertips. Jaebum's eyes hungrily take him in as he lounges by the water’s edge. A flimsy robe is draped artfully over his slender frame like it’s begging Jaebum to tug it away, and a circlet of dainty flowers is perched on his head. Rosy pink kisses the skin of his knuckles, elbows, knees, ears — Jaebum can almost feel the warmth that would radiate from him if he held this man in his arms.

In a single look, Jaebum is ensnared.

 

 

* * *

  

 

“Going somewhere?”

Jaebum hunches over on himself. Even though Mark’s tone had been light when he asked the question, his words feel pointed.

“Just dealing with other people’s messes, as usual,” Jaebum replies gruffly. He sweeps his robes about him, emanating a chill that would send a shiver down any mortal’s spine.

Unfortunately, Mark has been dealing with him for countless lifetimes and gives him nothing but an unimpressed blink. “There have been an awful lot of messes for you to deal with aboveground lately, haven’t there?”

Jaebum coughs. “You know how it is. One of them starts acting up and then all the others refuse to be upstaged, and then before you know it, half the mortal population is cattle.”

“I haven’t noticed a particular increase in the number of cattle around,” Mark says mildly.

Jaebum stares at him. “Cows don’t cross the Styx, Mark. When would you see them, anyway?”

Mark shrugs. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe the last time I followed you when you went aboveground — ”

“You _followed_ me?” Jaebum’s first thought is to be aghast at the betrayal. His second is to be horrified at the implications of Mark’s actions. “Are you telling me you didn’t ferry the immortal souls of the recently deceased across the Styx because you wanted to _stalk_ me?”

“What are they going to do?” Mark asks, unbothered. “Die?”

Jaebum flounders for an answer and settles on scowling when he can’t think of one. “Don’t shirk your duties again,” he warns. “We all have our roles to play.”

“Right, like your role of the Olympians’ guard dog,” Mark replies. “They’re not going to let you back up there no matter how many tasks you complete, you know that, right? Why do you let them treat you like a mortal? You fancy yourself Heracles?”

“Shut up,” Jaebum snarls. “You don’t know, you were never — ” He swallows the rest of his words with a grimace. “You’ll never understand it. You’ve never been one of them.”

Mark purses his lips. “No, I suppose not. I guess I’ll never understand why you keep running away aboveground when you have an entire realm to rule here.”

“I’m not running away,” Jaebum insists.

Mark cocks his head. “Then what are you running to?”

 

 

* * *

 

  

Perhaps it’s Mark’s words that make Jaebum careless. Perhaps he’s simply tired. Perhaps there’s a tiny part of him that longs to know what the beautiful man’s voice sounds like, even if it’s the first and last time he gets to hear it and it’s cursing his name.

Whatever it may be, he doesn’t keep the shadows drawn as tightly around him as he usually does. Sunlight dances at the edges of the darkness he wears around him, almost close enough to feel. He stares down at the meeting point between shadow and light — so sharp, so distinct. Impossible to blur or force the two to coexist.

"I know you're there."

The words startle him out of his thoughts and he almost gives in to his instincts to melt back into the shadows of the timber. But that voice — that _voice,_ like honey, like music, like Jaebum could listen to it for eons and eons until mortals turned to dust and Olympus fell and he wouldn't even notice. Not if that voice kept speaking to him.

The man's head is lolling back on his shoulders, lazy in appearance despite the precision with which he directs his words. Jaebum swears he's still at least partly hidden, but the man's eyes pin him back where he stands, burning through him like sunlight through glass.

Giving up, Jaebum steps forward into the light.

The man's eyebrows fly up in surprise. "I didn't think it would be you. I thought perhaps a lesser god or one of your underlings — "

Jaebum bristles. "A lesser god?" he asks. "You thought I gave off the power of a lesser god?"

The man giggles. "Well, you _were_ hiding," he points out. "Or at least putting up a token effort."

Jaebum has to admit that he has a point. "But you know who I am," he deflects.

"I do," the man replies. "It would be a bit of a shame if I didn't know one of my own."

"One of your own?" Jaebum asks curiously. He'd assumed the man was some sort of forest being, perhaps bound to the pool or the trees circling it.

The man smirks. "Do you know who my mother is?"

Jaebum regards him warily. "If you're about to tell me that you're my demigod son, I'm going to need to leave immediately — "

The man breaks out into wild laughter. "Your _son,_ " he chokes. "As if your son could even sit here without killing half the wildlife, let alone be the god of spring."

Jaebum isn't sure what expression is on his face as he processes everything the man has just said. Probably a fairly stupid one, if the renewed peals of laughter from the man — the _god_ — before him are anything to go by. Finally, he says, "The god of spring? So you're — "

"Jinyoung," the man replies. "And my mother would be quite offended you don't know me. I'm rather her pride and joy."

"Yes, she's — " Jaebum blinks rapidly, his mind still lagging behind the conversation. "She's quite...insistent about things being her way."

Jinyoung shrugs. "One of the good traits I inherited from her."

"The good ones?" Jaebum quirks an eyebrow. "Any bad ones?"

Jinyoung smiles. "That I'm quite unpleasant when I don't end up getting my way."

Jaebum surprises himself when he says, "Well, then, I'll have to make sure I never get on your unpleasant side."

There's a twinkle in Jinyoung's eye that makes Jaebum's heart skip a beat — foolish, really. Like a mortal.

"Jaebum." Jinyoung drags his name out slowly, like he's savoring the taste of it in his mouth. "Are you telling me you're always going to let me have my way?"

Jaebum swallows hard. "Perhaps."

Jinyoung gives him a smile brighter than the glimmer of the sun in the pool.

"Perfect."

 

 

* * *

 

  

It's on a whim that Jaebum plucks the flowers he stumbles across the next time he's off on some errand for the Olympians.

He doesn't normally linger, eager to complete his tasks as quickly as possible and return to ignoring the world that cast him out. But this time, he sees the blossoms, sweet and round, and he leans down and carefully snaps the stems and gathers the flowers. The first few he takes wither away in his touch and he nearly curses and abandons the idea; but his mind provides the image of Jinyoung, surprised into a warm smile, and he grumbles for a few moments more before leaning down to try again.

He holds back the coldness from his fingertips, reins in the chill that always emanates from him as he carefully reaches out for the flower. It's difficult and aches in the way he imagines mortals do when they overexert their bodies, but he manages to collect what he thinks is a decent bouquet, held delicately in his hands as if they might shatter like glass.

It’s with this same care that he offers them to Jinyoung, holding them out to him with hands that feel as if they aren’t his own. He’s terrified that his control will waver, as it tends to do in Jinyoung’s presence, and the flowers will wilt and curl in on themselves in his grip before Jinyoung can take them; but he looks into Jinyoung’s eyes, watches how they widen with surprise and then crinkle into a smile, and even the idea of cold seems foreign in the face of Jinyoung’s happiness.

Jinyoung lifts the bouquet to his nose, almost hidden from sight. It doesn’t matter; all it takes is Jinyoung’s eyes peeking up through his fringe and curving into content crescents for Jaebum to know he’d walk the earth and uproot each living thing he encountered if only so he could hand it over to Jinyoung.

“What brought this about?” Jinyoung murmurs, face still buried in the flowers. They seem to come to life in his hands, as if he’s breathed new life into them.

Jaebum swallows, mouth suddenly dry. “I saw them and they — I thought of you.”

Jinyoung hums thoughtfully and then uncurls the fingers of one hand from around the stems to beckon Jaebum closer. “Are you sure you weren’t already thinking of me?” he teases.

A step closer and Jaebum can see the shadows Jinyoung’s lashes cast on his cheeks, dark against his warm, golden skin. “What would make you think that?” he asks. Jinyoung is right, but only because Jaebum seems to always be thinking about him, anyway.

Jinyoung quirks his eyebrow at him. “Do you know what these are?”

Jaebum looks down at the bouquet and then back up at Jinyoung. “Flowers?”

Jinyoung laughs, and it sounds like a child in its simplicity, like innocence and blushing firsts, and Jaebum feels anything but immortal.

“Gloxinia,” Jinyoung explains. He tugs one of the flowers free from the group and snaps its stem with more ease than Jaebum would’ve expected from fingers so fine.

Jaebum’s breath stutters in his chest when Jinyoung reaches for his face, the flower held between his thumb and forefinger while the rest of his digits brush through the hair at Jaebum’s temples, pushing it behind his ear. He settles the blossom there, perched precariously in Jaebum’s locks.

He must look a bit ridiculous, Jaebum thinks. Enrobed in darkness that draws in light and swallows it until even the air around him seems black and cold — broken by a shock of deep, warm red, like lifeblood, daintily lined in white.

“Love,” Jinyoung whispers, his fingers still lingering along Jaebum’s jawline.

With the way Jaebum’s heart twists torturously in his chest, he’d be very concerned about his lifespan if he were a mortal. “What?”

“Gloxinia,” Jinyoung explains, holding the bouquet up between them with his other hand. Its fragrance is light and fresh, something Jaebum can rarely find in his realm. “In the language of flowers, it means love.” His hand trails down Jaebum’s neck and comes to settle over his heart. “Love at first sight, to be specific.”

“They’re beautiful,” Jaebum says, heart pounding so frantically in his chest it’s as if it’s trying to leap out and into Jinyoung’s palm.

“They are,” Jinyoung agrees.

 

 

* * *

 

  

Jaebum doesn't make a habit of venturing aboveground without someone else commanding it — it's part of why Jinyoung has him so off-kilter — but he especially doesn't make a habit of paying visits to gods of things like love. All they do is complicate things, and Jaebum is, by nature, someone who appreciates simplicity and comfort.

But sometimes, needs must. Sometimes, despite his best efforts to avoid them, the other gods like to toy with Jaebum, as they seem to be doing now. And so, Jaebum finds himself driven to a pavilion ensconced in flowers not half as beautiful as those in Jinyoung's clearing.

Jaebum stalks up the steps to the pavilion, letting each step grow in weight and power until his feet are landing with thunderous echoes. “What did you shoot me with?” he demands.

“Jaebummie. _Please._ ” The man lounging there in the afternoon sun holds up a placating hand. All it does is raise Jaebum's hackles further. “You can't just barge in and make accusations like that. And without even saying hello or asking how I've been! Is this how family treats each other nowadays?”

“Family?” Jaebum narrows his eyes. “This is how I treat people who meddle in my affairs. You should know this by now, Jackson.”

“‘Affairs,’” Jackson repeats dramatically, ruffling his wings for added flair. “What would you know about affairs? When's the last time you so much as smiled at a pretty thing?”

Jaebum grits his teeth. “Is that why you've gone and taken matters into your own hands? You're taking pity on me because I don't have a string of ill-advised lovers like everyone else?” Even as he speaks, the dissonance between his words and his actions rattles in the back of his mind. It's true that gods taking interest in mortals rarely ends well for them; but here he is, taking interest in a god whose mother is both powerful and notorious, and he thinks he has the right to judge anyone?

“Taken matters into my own hands?” Jackson furrows his brow. “What's that supposed to mean? You think I shot you with something so no one will touch your cold, immortal dick? Because I can assure you, that's entirely on you — ”

“No!” Jaebum snaps, even as his gut twists at the idea of someone — someone, _right_ — touching him. “I meant that you — you must've shot me with one of your stupid infatuation arrows.”

“And why's that?” Jackson's eyes widen as comprehension dawns on his face, followed quickly by a sly smile that makes Jaebum want to disappear into the shadows. “ _Jaebummie._ ”

“Don't call me that,” Jaebum says peevishly.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Jackson says, not sounding apologetic at all. “Is that only for your lover to call you?”

“I don't have a _lover,_ “ Jaebum hisses. “We aren't — I mean, we haven't — ”

“And why not?” Jackson prods. “Are you so out of practice that even with your godly presence, you can't catch a mortal's attention?”

“I'm not trying to catch the attention of a mortal,” Jaebum admits.

“Oh, really?” Jackson raises his eyebrows at him. “Should we be expecting an addition to our ranks anytime soon, then?”

Jaebum is fairly sure that gods can’t choke, especially on their own spit, but Jackson always has been fond of pushing boundaries.

“That isn’t — no,” Jaebum splutters. “You shouldn't be expecting anything.”

“Are you really not even going to try to woo them?” Jackson wheedles.

“It might not be the best idea,” Jaebum confesses.

“And why not?”

“It's — ” Jaebum casts his eyes around the pavilion nervously, as if Jinyoung's mother might be hiding in the flower bushes. “It's Jinyoung.”

Jackson shows no reaction for a moment, making Jaebum wonder if he'd said it too quietly, but then he throws his head back and howls with piercing laughter. He laughs until he seems likely to fall off his chaise, until his frame is shaking hard enough that a couple feathers drift free from his wings.

“Don't — don't _laugh,_ ” Jaebum says, slightly offended. “Why are you laughing?”

“Oh, Jaebummie,” Jackson says, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “You really don't do anything by halves, do you?”

Jaebum glares at him. At least, he hopes it comes across as a glare rather than a pout. “Excuse me?”

“How long have you spent alone, moping around down there in the Underworld?” Jackson asks. Jaebum refuses to answer, gazing sullenly at one of the fallen feathers. “And now that you've decided to fall for someone — ”

“I haven't fallen yet,” Jaebum protests. “We've barely spoken.”

Jackson snorts. “Right, of course. That's why you came crashing into my pavilion demanding to know why I shot you with a love arrow. Because you aren't in love. Obviously.”

Jaebum lifts his hands to his face, rubbing at his forehead and groaning. “But if you didn't shoot me, then — ”

“Then you just love him,” Jackson says simply. “Don't make things more complicated than they need to be.”

Jaebum scoffs. “Isn't that your job?”

“I don't make things complicated,” Jackson says with a cheeky smile. “I make them fun.”

“What's fun about the goddess of the harvest wanting my head on a spike?” Jaebum grumbles.

“Doesn't it get your blood pumping?” Jackson asks. “A little fight-or-flight response never hurt anyone.”

“The response might not, but she definitely would,” Jaebum says flatly.

Jackson dismisses this with a wave of his hand. “You have a whole realm of the dead to hide in, I'm sure you'll be fine. Besides, isn't he worth it?”

Jaebum opens his mouth to respond, then closes it and swallows hard. The ease with which a _yes_ rises to his lips terrifies him, because it only seems to support what Jackson is saying.

“I'm out of practice, anyway,” he deflects gruffly. “It isn't going to go anywhere.”

“Start with something small,” Jackson suggests. “Like bringing him flowers.”

Jaebum stares steadfastly at the ground. “I've already done that.”

Jackson grins. “And?”

“And...he liked them,” Jaebum says begrudgingly.

“What kind did you give him?” Jackson asks eagerly. “Roses? Myrtle?” He pauses to think and then adds, “Perhaps myrtle would be a bad idea. You don't want him thinking you're really after his mother.”

Jaebum pulls a face. “I don't think there's any risk of that. And it was...gloxinia? Is what he said.” He bites his lip. “He said it means — ”

“Love at first sight.” Jackson lets out a low whistle. “I might've underestimated you, Jaebummie. You seem like a natural.”

“I had no idea when I picked them,” Jaebum mumbles. “They just seemed like the sort of thing he would like.”

“Like I said,” Jackson replies. “A natural.”

“I'm really not,” Jaebum insists. “I don't know what to do now.”

“Get him more flowers,” Jackson says and then his face lights up with a smile. “Actually, I think I have just the thing.”

 

 

* * *

 

  

Jaebum doesn’t know the language of flowers by any stretch of the imagination, but he also doesn't know how else to speak to Jinyoung without his tongue tying itself into knots and his heart leaping into his throat. So, when Jackson plucks a bouquet for him and tells him carefully what its meaning is, Jaebum figures that he doesn’t have any other options. What matters is getting to talk to Jinyoung at all.

It shouldn’t be as nerve-wracking this time, not when he didn’t even pick out the flowers himself; yet he finds himself just as anxious as the first time when he approaches Jinyoung with a new bouquet. He wonders if it will ever settle or fade, this constant fluttering in his chest at even the thought of Jinyoung; he wonders if he’ll ever want it to.

When he hands the flowers over to Jinyoung, though, the smile that had greeted him fades. Jinyoung takes the bouquet with a frown curling the corners of his mouth down, his chin dimpling and eyes widening. Even upset, he’s beautiful, but Jaebum’s heart can’t stand the sight.

“Is something wrong?” Jaebum asks.

“Hydrangea,” Jinyoung says slowly. “Frigidity. And heartlessness.”

“So, maybe I should’ve just kept them for myself, then,” Jaebum jokes weakly, but at least it makes the worried lines between Jinyoung’s eyebrows disappear. “Well, I mean — you’re not wrong, those meanings are there.”

“I would hope I’m not wrong, since this is my entire purpose for existing,” Jinyoung says drily.

“But there’s another meaning,” Jaebum continues, words racing past each other as his flustered tongue tries to keep ahead of his thoughts. “And that’s the one I intended.”

“Intent,” Jinyoung muses. “And what _are_ your intentions, Jaebum?”

Jaebum swallows hard at the smokey tone of Jinyoung’s voice, the warm depth of his gaze. “Thank you,” he says, “for understanding.”

Jinyoung’s eyebrows fly up in surprise. “Understanding?”

“Most of the other gods don’t let me intrude on their territory, let alone welcome me in,” Jaebum says quietly. “Mortals even less so. But you — you called out to me. And you joked with me even when I tried to hide, and you didn’t change your mind once you knew who I was. So, thank you. For understanding. And for not being afraid.”

Jinyoung is shocked into silence for several moments. His fingers tighten around the stems of the flowers before he holds one out to Jaebum.

“I don’t know why I’d be afraid of you, of all people,” he says straightforwardly, “when you laugh at my jokes and bring me flowers and seek me out even when you know about my mother.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” Jaebum asks. He’s reeling from the warmth of Jinyoung’s words, the kindness so foreign.

“What everyone else does, I suppose.” Jinyoung steps closer and presses the flower to Jaebum’s chest. It always seems to end up like this, with Jaebum’s heart in his hands. “But you haven’t done that. So, thank you too, Jaebum.”

“You never have to thank me for that,” Jaebum whispers. His hand comes up to rest atop Jinyoung’s, and he realizes with a jolt that it’s the first time he’s been the one to initiate a touch. Jinyoung is almost feverish in his hold, like drunken glows and rising suns, and it burns in Jaebum’s chest that not everyone would be willing to do anything for him. Even after so little time, Jaebum can’t conceive of an existence in which Jinyoung isn’t the brightest point.

Jackson had said. And Jaebum loathes admitting a god like Jackson is ever right — but his stubbornness does have its limits, and they seem to be right where Jinyoung’s skin meets his.

“What if I want to thank you?” Jinyoung asks, his voice just as low as Jaebum’s. He’s close now, close enough that Jaebum can feel the warmth radiating from every part of him. It should be too much, overwhelming to his own chilled skin, but instead, he hungers for more. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he felt so alive, since immortality felt like an opportunity rather than a curse. All he knows is that if he’s going to burn, he’ll do so gladly at Jinyoung’s hand.

“Then you can,” Jaebum replies, words almost disappearing in the pocket of warm space between them. “You can do anything you please.”

He’s aware, distantly, that this resembles the kind of love that has razed cities and wreaked havoc even on Olympus. But when he drinks in the sight of Jinyoung, feels his palm against his heart, he finds himself feeling reckless for the first time in his long existence.

So, he kisses him — but he doesn’t kiss him recklessly. He kisses him the same way he picked the gloxinia, as if he doesn’t quite trust his hands not to ruin something so beautiful, so fine. He kisses him tenderly, gently, with his fingertips barely daring to trail down the pretty curve of Jinyoung’s jaw.

It’s Jinyoung who wraps a sunny hand around the back of Jaebum’s neck and pulls him in like he wants to devour him, like he’s determined to melt him down and swallow him whole.

It’s Jinyoung who kisses with the power of an Olympian, and it’s Jaebum who falls to his knees in worship.

 

 

* * *

 

  

“I’ve never seen you so happy to be running around aboveground,” Mark comments when Jaebum sweeps through the gate.

Jaebum can’t say he’s surprised. He’s been waiting for a while now for Mark to say something about his regular absences, especially considering how he barely tries to hide his escapades anymore. It’s hard to bother with cloaking himself in darkness when he knows he’ll soon be in the light of Jinyoung’s presence.

Still, Jaebum tries to scowl at him and cast icy shadows around himself, but he can’t seem to quite muster them. He settles for crossing his arms and saying, “Have you been following me again?”

“No need to,” Mark replies. “You’re rarely here anymore, and you always come back with pollen on your robes and a flower still stuck behind your ear. It’s pretty clear someone has you walking the earth for them. Since when were you such a happy little lapdog?”

Those words should cut deep. They should sting in wounds that have settled deep and been opened and reopened again, should tear at Jaebum in a way that he still hasn’t gotten used to —

But Jaebum laughs. “Maybe it’s worth walking the earth when you have a reason.”

“A reason?” Mark’s brow furrows. “Don’t tell me you’re still laboring under the delusion that you’ll ever be welcome on Olympus — ”

“Forget Olympus,” Jaebum interrupts. “Forget all of them.”

Mark blinks. “I’m sorry?”

The reality of what he’s said washes over Jaebum, and he almost feels like his icy skin could flush. “It’s — it’s not important,” he says brusquely, turning away.

“Well, _something_ clearly is,” Mark counters. “You never told me — what are you running to?” He hesitates for a moment before adding quietly, “Or should I ask, who?”

Jaebum’s head whips around to stare at Mark. “Did you talk to Jackson?”

Mark snorts. “I don’t have to talk to anyone. My eyes serve me perfectly well.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jaebum demands.

“I mean you’ve never acted like this before,” Mark replies. “And you’ve never meddled with love before, either. It isn’t all that difficult to figure out when you’re acting like you’ve gone mad.”

“Gone mad,” Jaebum repeats. Mark’s words echo his own thoughts, but even here, Jinyoung still seems to hold power over him. At least, Jaebum can’t bring himself to recoil from the idea of madness, which is strange enough in and of itself. It’s as if he’s planted something in Jaebum’s chest, something that grows each time he hears Jinyoung’s voice or feels his touch; something that’s climbing the cold walls around his heart and mind, taking root and making them crumble.

Whether it’s his sanity that’s falling or something else, Jaebum doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he particularly cares, either.

“You know,” he says to Mark. “You’re probably right.” He pauses and then a laugh bursts in his chest again, in approximately the same space that Jinyoung’s apparently carved out for himself.

Mark eyes him with begrudging amusement.

“I’m quite sure that I am,” is all he says in reply.

 

 

* * *

  

 

Jaebum has never thought of himself as the type to make daisy chains before. It’s difficult enough for him to hold flowers in his hands, let alone carefully weave them together.

And yet, here he is, placing a dainty crown of daisies upon Jinyoung’s head. He’ll never admit it, but it took him at least four tries and countless dead flowers scattered around him to manage this one. It’s worth it, though, when Jinyoung’s fingers settle atop his, slowly guiding them down to cup his face.

Jaebum runs his thumbs over the soft swell of Jinyoung’s cheeks, his heart squeezing as the corners of his eyes crinkle happily. “What do daisies mean?”

“Innocence and purity,” Jinyoung says, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Ah.” Jaebum swallows hard, his hands slipping down to cup Jinyoung’s neck instead. “That’s — they’re pretty.”

Jinyoung hums. “You think so?”

“Of course,” Jaebum breathes. It still shocks him, how evident his love for Jinyoung is now that he’s accepted it. Every word, every look, every beat of his heart — he feels transparent and small in front of Jinyoung. He clears his throat and glances down nervously at the ground. “They were pretty when I saw them in the field, but I think they’re prettier like this.”

Silence meets him, and he looks back up worriedly to find Jinyoung’s eyes wistful and distant. “It’s been a long time since I saw a field of daisies,” he says.

“I can take you there,” Jaebum says automatically. “Right now, even, I remember where it is — ”

“Really?” Jinyoung leans into his space, a challenge in his eyes. It sparks something in Jaebum, like kindling catching light. “You can, but will you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Jaebum asks. He asks, even though they both know the looming danger of being found out by his mother or anyone who would tell her, the risk that nips at their heels every time Jaebum so much as steps foot in Jinyoung’s clearing.

Jinyoung cocks his head, eyes unreadable. “You’ve already brought me flowers and laughed at my jokes.” He lifts a hand to Jaebum’s face and runs his thumb over the curve of his lip. “And you’ve already gotten plenty in return. How much further will you be willing to go?”

To the ends of the earth, Jaebum wants to say, and then beyond. Through every realm known to god and man and then wherever else he can find.

Instead, he says, “Let me show you.”

Jaebum swears that riding his chariot has never felt so much like flying as it does with Jinyoung by his side.

Once they’ve reached the field and Jinyoung steps onto the earth with featherlight feet, Jaebum feels as if he’s seeing with new eyes. Of course, Jinyoung’s presence breathes life into everything around him, the flowers seeming to sigh at his touch and the blades of grass reaching up and yearning for him. This is what Jinyoung does.

But he’s glowing with new life, too.

Jaebum had thought when he first saw Jinyoung lying by the pool that he would never see anything more beautiful. Perhaps he’d thought that because up until that point, nothing else could compare. But now, Jinyoung stands beneath an open blue sky, surrounded by flowers that match the circlet in his hair, with nothing limiting him but the horizon — and Jaebum realizes just how much more beautiful everything could be.

When Jaebum kisses him, he thinks he can feel something humming inside Jinyoung, something that resonates in Jaebum, something that grows within them and between them until they’re falling together. Even lying in the dirt, his crown of flowers bent and askew, Jinyoung steals the breath from Jaebum’s lungs and the thoughts from his mind. He makes Jaebum want him more than he’s ever wanted anything — more than he wanted wealth or victory or Olympus itself.

He bears Jinyoung down into the earth and kisses pretty marks into his neck until he blooms like the first flowers he brought him, until his love is there for anyone to see. He lays him bare and worships him better than any mortal, any god, any sacred rites — nothing can compare, nothing ever will compare to the sweet heat of Jaebum’s mouth. Not if he has anything to say about it.

He kisses across Jinyoung’s soft chest, runs his tongue over the sensitive buds and suckles wetly at them until Jinyoung’s arching his back and clawing at the dirt, and then he keeps going. His hands run broad and warm over the gentle swell of his belly, between the velvet skin of his thighs, until he’s cupping his pretty leaking cock. First his hands, then his mouth — everything for Jinyoung, _anything_ for him, Jaebum gives and gives and gives until Jinyoung shakes apart beneath him.

For the first time since they’ve met, Jinyoung sounds truly out of control and caught off-guard. Jaebum wants to spend the rest of eternity surprising Jinyoung in every way.

Jinyoung refuses to dress afterward as he lounges lazily among the daisies, weaving a chain of his own that puts Jaebum’s to shame.

Jaebum curls up beside him, drinking in the scent of flowers and sweat and sex. “Purity and innocence?” he asks with a teasing lilt to his voice.

Jinyoung smiles drowsily as he perches the new crown on Jaebum’s head so they match. “Well. They’re still pretty, in any case.”

Jaebum stares at him, his circlet of daisies sullied enough to look half-dead and dirt sticking to sweat-damp patches of skin, and says, “Perhaps they’re even prettier like this.”

The laughs Jinyoung lets out is silky and warm, pleased as anything, and it tastes like honey when he drags Jaebum down for a kiss.

 

 

* * *

 

  

Jaebum probably should’ve known there would be consequences for their stunt in the daisy field.

Still, he doesn’t anticipate just how affected by it all Jinyoung will be.

“I’ve never seen you like this before,” Jaebum says quietly, Jinyoung’s hands squeezed tight between his own as they lie tangled together beside the pool. He doesn’t need to elaborate — Jinyoung, as he knows him, is in control of himself and his emotions, even if he hasn’t been granted any control over his life.

Now, though, Jinyoung’s face is drawn, the flora in the clearing wilting and shriveling. “I’ve never felt like this before,” he admits.

Under any other circumstances, Jaebum’s heart would be soaring at hearing Jinyoung utter those words. Instead, it sits heavy and cold in his chest, knowing that Jinyoung isn’t speaking of love; he’s speaking of the fear that’s fallen over them both, now that his mother is aware of what Jaebum is doing to her son.

Jaebum’s thumb runs over Jinyoung’s pink knuckles, dips into the spaces between his fingers and plays with them in an attempt to lighten the oppressive weight they both feel. “I’m sure your mother being a heinous bitch isn’t anything particularly new.”

“Oh, no, of course not,” Jinyoung agrees. “It’s just that...well, I’m used to fearing for myself, not someone else.” He huffs out a mirthless laugh. “This is much worse.”

His matter-of-fact tone, his simple acceptance — it makes Jaebum want to storm Olympus, to unleash hellhounds and raise the dead, to be as reckless as Jinyoung always seems to make him.

But he knows he can’t do these things, for Jinyoung’s sake if nothing else.

“We could go away for good,” Jaebum says, the words spilling out of his lips without thought. The instinct to protect Jinyoung overshadows anything else in his mind. “I could take you to the Underworld, keep you there, keep you safe — ”

“Don’t,” Jinyoung says, his grip on Jaebum’s hand tightening painfully. “I can’t let you do that. I don’t know what she would do, and I can’t — I can’t _stand_ the idea of anything happening to you because of me, Jaebum — ”

“But you’re — ”

“I’m accustomed to it,” Jinyoung says firmly. “You don’t need to save me, Jaebum.”

“But I could,” Jaebum tries to insist.

“I can’t let you take that risk.” Jinyoung lifts their clasped fingers to his face and presses kisses there sloppily, the roughness of the movement a sharp contrast to the plushness of his lips. “I — I can’t, Jaebum.”

“Then what should I do?” Jaebum asks. “What _can_ I do?”

“Just stay with me, for now,” Jinyoung says. _While you can_ goes unspoken.

“But then what?” Jaebum asks, tone veering toward desperate. “Then, when your mother locks you away somewhere no one will ever see you again, somewhere _I’ll_ never see you again — ”

“Jaebum.” One word from Jinyoung is enough to silence him. “Please, just...hold me, for now.”

And even though his mind is racing, rebelling, resisting this quiet conclusion that feels like it’s come too soon, Jaebum wraps himself around Jinyoung as best he can. He soaks up the warmth that radiates from him, just like he’d imagined it would the first time he saw him, and wishes he could give Jinyoung warmth in return.

As it is, he kisses every inch of Jinyoung’s face that he can reach. He hopes it’s warmth enough.

 

 

* * *

  

 

Being aboveground feels strange again without Jinyoung at his side.

“I have to say, I wasn’t expecting to see you again anytime soon,” Jackson remarks. “I thought you’d be planning a daring escape with your lover, or perhaps an attack on Olympus.”

Jaebum grimaces at the reminder. “Jinyoung...didn’t want me to,” he admits. “Help him escape, that is.”

Jackson narrows his eyes. “And why not?”

“Because he — he said he didn’t want me to get hurt.” Jaebum sighs. “And I’m not going to be like his mother and try to control his life. I can’t force him to leave, I can’t _kidnap_ him — ”

“Who said anything about forcing him?” Jackson asks. “It seems to me that both of you are ready to set yourselves on fire to keep each other warm, but you aren’t even considering simpler options.” He scoffs and mutters, “And you say _I’m_ the one who makes things complicated.”

“How are we making it complicated?” Jaebum snaps.

“He says he doesn’t want you to get hurt,” Jackson replies. “And in the process, he’s making sure you end up hurt anyway.”

“He isn’t,” Jaebum says immediately, protective instinct rising even when Jinyoung isn’t physically present. “He wouldn’t — ”

“Not on purpose, anyway,” Jackson interrupts. “But by being an idiot blinded by love? He absolutely would.”

“No,” Jaebum insists stubbornly. “He isn’t going to hurt me.” He ignores the way his chest is already aching, as if the spot once warmed by Jinyoung’s hand now burns with bitter cold instead.

“Has he not already?” Jackson asks. “Tell me, Jaebum — what, exactly, is the point of being immortal if you have nothing to live for?”

“I — I have other things to live for,” Jaebum replies automatically. “I have duties” — which he’s always hated, but he tries not to linger on that — “and I have an entire kingdom — ”

“And what’s the point of a kingdom without someone to share it with?” Jackson counters. “You want to go back to your life before? Do you even remember how miserable you were, or has Jinyoung erased even the memory of unhappiness?”

Jaebum turns away as if he can escape Jackson’s words that way. “I can’t keep him locked away there,” he says.

“Who said anything about locking him away?” Jackson asks. “When have you given Jinyoung anything other than freedom?”

“The Underworld has never meant anything like freedom to me,” Jaebum says darkly. “I can’t force him to stay somewhere so cold and lifeless when he — he’s — ”

“Just because it’s never meant freedom for you doesn’t mean it won’t be freedom for Jinyoung,” Jackson replies. “And you — you were cold and lifeless before, just as much as your kingdom. Look at you now.”

“Look at what?” Jaebum asks, even though he knows perfectly well what Jackson means.

Jackson doesn’t dignify his question with a response. “When I say you’re making things complicated — don’t you see how perfect the solution is?”

“Enlighten me.”

“Jinyoung gains freedom for the first time in his life, and with someone he wants,” Jackson says. “You gain a partner, a fellow ruler of the Underworld, someone who will bring life even to the realm of the dead.” He pauses and a smile spreads across his face. “And both of you gain love.”

“Love,” Jaebum repeats weakly. “Of course, that’s all you can think of.”

“As if it isn’t all you can think of, as well,” Jackson says with a satisfied smirk.

Jaebum groans. “This is all well and good, but how do you expect me to ask Jinyoung to change his mind?”

Jackson snorts. “He left his home for you once already, and the only thing holding him back from doing it again is fear that he’ll hurt you. So, are you really changing his mind? Or are you just giving him permission to do what he truly wants to do anyway?”

Jaebum bites at his lip. “You really think that?”

“I _know_ it,” Jackson replies. “This is what I do, love is why I _exist._ I know it when I see it.”

“And you help fools act even more foolish, too?” Jaebum says drily.

Jackson smiles beatifically. “Of course. Isn’t that why you came to me?”

That startles a laugh out of Jaebum. “Is this all the help you have to offer? Telling me to do something I wanted to do in the first place?”

“That certainly isn’t all I have to offer,” Jackson says with a grin. “So, tell me — what foolish thing can I do for you?”

And this part is easy, now, which Jaebum never could’ve anticipated.

He smiles, his eyes on Jackson but his mind on Jinyoung. “Actually, I think I have just the thing.”

 

 

* * *

 

  

The next time Jaebum ventures into Jinyoung’s clearing, he’s aware it will be the last.

So many things are the same — the thick foliage around him, the glimmer of sunlight ahead, the bouquet of flowers in his hand — but Jaebum can’t shake the anxiety that only grows with each step. It wells up inside him and makes his feet leaden, but he presses forward. For Jinyoung, if nothing else.

When Jinyoung’s eyes light on him, they crinkle into a surprised smile; when they fall to the bouquet in his hands, though, they widen in shock.

“Jaebum,” he whispers, his eyes not leaving the cleomes Jaebum is holding. _Something that leaves no doubt,_ he’d told Jackson. It seems that he’d gotten that right, judging by the incredulous tremor in Jinyoung’s voice when he asks, “You know what these mean?”

“I do,” he says firmly. He sits by Jinyoung next to the pool and holds out the cluster of flowers to him, letting them speak for him.

Still, Jinyoung stares down at them as if he can’t believe the sight. “This — it isn’t like the others,” he insists. “This doesn’t mean simply love or devotion or — ”

“I told you,” Jaebum interrupts. “I know what they mean. I know what I’m asking.”

“To elope with you?” Jinyoung asks with a stilted laugh. “As if we’re a pair of foolish mortals — ”

“Or maybe just a pair of foolish immortals.” Jaebum takes a deep breath. “You asked me how far I would be willing to go, and I asked you to let me show you.” He presses the flowers into Jinyoung’s hand, wraps his slack fingers around their stems. “I’ll go as far as you’ll let me, Jinyoung.”

“As far as I’ll let you,” Jinyoung repeats, his fingers tightening around the bouquet of their own accord now. “You realize what will happen? You know what my mother will say about you? What she’ll make everyone think?”

“I know, or at least, I have some idea,” Jaebum replies. “And I know you said you couldn’t let me take that fall for you, but Jinyoung, please, I’m _begging_ you — ”

“I still can’t let you, Jaebum,” Jinyoung whispers. “You can’t — ”

“You, of all people, should know that telling someone they can’t do something will only make them want to do it more,” Jaebum says sharply, but then his voice softens. “I won’t force you to come with me. But if you’re refusing because you don’t want me to get hurt, you — you can’t be the one hurting me by making me leave you under your mother’s control.”

Jinyoung’s breath hitches in his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks brusquely, but his eyes give him away, wide and finally, finally hopeful even as he questions Jaebum.

“You know what it means,” Jaebum says. “She can say or do anything she wants, as long as — ” He swallows, embarrassment rushing through him at the sentimentality, the vulnerability that Jinyoung unburies in him.

“As long as?” Jinyoung prompts, sounding as on-edge as Jaebum feels.

“As long as I can keep you safe from her,” Jaebum says, his voice almost inaudible even to his own ears. “As long as I can make you happy.”

A moment passes, Jaebum’s heart trying to beat its way out of his ribcage and toward Jinyoung, the silence between them stretching and stretching until, all at once, it snaps. Jinyoung surges forward without warning and his lips are against Jaebum’s, already moving past chaste and into sinful territory, and he feels like a fever and tastes like madness.

Jaebum holds him tighter than he’s held anything, tight enough he’s almost terrified he’ll break him, but Jinyoung grabs at him like he isn’t holding tight enough.

“Let me take you,” Jaebum whispers, words hot and humid between their lips.

“Anything,” Jinyoung replies, half-laughing and half-kissing him again already. “You can take anything.”

And Jaebum knows this. He knows he’s an immortal god, and one of the most powerful, the most feared. He can be like his brothers and coerce or force most anything he pleases, can take whatever he desires solely because he desires it.

Jaebum could take anything, but he’s being freely given the only thing he’s ever wanted like this.

When he kisses Jinyoung again, knowing this, knowing that Jinyoung has chosen to stay by his side, it’s sweeter than any nectar.

 

 

* * *

  

 

Jinyoung lounges in Jaebum’s bed like he’s always belonged there. Jaebum is so accustomed to seeing him surrounded by greenery and life that he can’t tear his eyes away from the sight of him laid out on red silk sheets. The contrast should be jarring, should make it very clear to both of them that he isn’t of this world, that Jaebum has plucked something that wasn’t meant to be his and secreted it away.

Instead, it’s as if the contrast only makes Jinyoung’s beauty even more obvious than it was. Wealth is Jaebum’s domain, something he knows inside and out, but luxury has never looked so tantalizing as it does wrapped around Jinyoung.

“Is it true, what they say about the food here?” he asks, trailing a finger around the curve of a bowl of fruit that Jaebum keeps nearby. “That it binds you to the Underworld so you can’t leave?”

Jaebum winces, sitting up as the blankets pool around his hips. “I didn’t think of that. Don’t worry, I can go aboveground and bring back nectar and ambrosia for you, you don’t have to — ”

Jinyoung plucks a pomegranate from the arrangement and breaks it open easily. It never fails to startle Jaebum, how strong his pretty hands are. “What’s stopping her from taking me away?” he asks.

Jaebum’s stomach swoops. “What do you mean?” The implications of Jinyoung’s words and actions are clear, but his mind can’t seem to grasp it — not only was Jinyoung willing to come to the Underworld, but he’s willing to tie himself to it as irrevocably as Jaebum himself is bound.

“I mean,” Jinyoung says, thumbing several seeds out of the fruit and into his palm, “that the borders of your kingdom might hold her off — but they might not, either. And I didn’t come all this way to still live in fear.” He tips the seeds into Jaebum's palm, deceptively small for the power they hold. His voice is steady when he whispers, "Make me yours."

Jaebum's hands are anything but steady, trembling as he lifts a seed to Jinyoung's waiting lips. Their eyes are locked as Jinyoung takes it into his mouth and then goes further, lapping at Jaebum's fingers with tiny kitten licks, surprisingly playful for the gravity of the situation. Then again, Jaebum thinks, isn't that how Jinyoung has always been with him? He supposes that living with the constant weight that Jinyoung did has made his own levity a necessity.

He's a miracle, Jaebum thinks as Jinyoung suckles at his fingertips. He’s a miracle and Jaebum gets to keep him.

So he does as Jinyoung says, powerless to even want otherwise, and lays him down and makes him his. He kisses Jinyoung’s skin like he’s starving, open-mouthed and wet against Jinyoung’s delicate neck, his soft tummy, his thick thighs. He sucks with bruising force at the plushness right above Jinyoung’s hips until he’s squirming and squeaking, until Jaebum swears he’s leeched the sunny warmth right from his body.

Jinyoung looks perfect laid out on crimson sheets with blood blooming beneath his skin and his lips ruby-stained. He looks perfect beneath Jaebum, taking everything he has to give, more than he ever knew he had to give. His love, his body, his kingdom — all for this man.

And he knows, even as he gives him everything he has, that he would give him more if he could.

In fact, he thinks — no, he knows — he’s going to spend the rest of eternity trying.

 

 

* * *

 

  

No matter how many times Jaebum returns from aboveground to find Jinyoung in his bed, it always feels surreal. He can never bring himself to believe Jinyoung is there until he’s pressed himself up against him, wound himself around him and breathed him.

As always, he settles the flowers he’s brought into the vase at their bedside, arranging them carefully so they look neat next to the ever-present bowl of pomegranates there. Narcissus, he reminds himself so he can assure Jinyoung he knows their meaning later.

It’s one of the flowers with multiple meanings — their favorite kind. Even as he picked them, he could imagine the amused grin on Jinyoung’s face, as playful as the day he first called out to Jaebum by the pool. He could already hear the feigned offense in his voice as he teased, _Egotism? Formality?_ He can’t wait for Jinyoung to comment on them, simply so he can kiss up the soft skin of his neck to his ear and whisper, _Stay sweet as you are._

Flowers settled, he takes his place on the bed next to Jinyoung. His arms open naturally, as if they’ve never known what it meant to be empty, and Jinyoung curves into him just as easily.

“Any news?” Jinyoung asks, not sounding particularly invested in anything other than the feeling of Jaebum’s skin on his.

Jaebum hums. “You know what your mother’s doing, don’t you?” He presses the question into the curl of hair right over Jinyoung’s temple. “You’ve heard of the winter the mortals have to face because of you?”

“Because of _her,_ ” Jinyoung corrects. He nuzzles into Jaebum’s neck, skin still as warm as spring sunshine. “And don’t worry, they’re mortals — they’ll find poetry in their suffering. It’s what they do.”

Jaebum snorts. “And they call me the cold one. Jinyoung-ah, are you sure you weren’t meant to be ruler of the Underworld?”

“Who knows about ‘meant to be,’” Jinyoung says, his body curving against Jaebum as he stretches lazily. “All that matters is that I am now.”

“You are,” Jaebum murmurs, and he can hear the fondness in his own voice, the warmth and new life Jinyoung’s brought to it. “And you’re right.”

“I always am.” Jinyoung’s fingertips trail daintily across Jaebum’s front, looping circles and directionless patterns over the cool skin. “I’m glad you know better than to disagree.”

“I think we all know better, now.”

The corner of Jinyoung’s lip curls with satisfaction. Jaebum feels as smitten as the first day he found him.

“Good.”

**Author's Note:**

> ~hozier, but make it greek~
> 
> come talk to me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/mianderings) or [curious cat](http://curiouscat.me/mianderings)!


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